Scout's Honor
by Elf Eye
Summary: An elfling Anomen tale. Anomen ends up somewhere he is not supposed to be.


**_Joee_****, in your last review of _Things Fall Apart_, you asked me whether an upcoming chapter would include Legolas. Chapter 26 of that tale, which I will post shortly, will not, but Chapter 27 will. Meanwhile, here is an elfling Anomen tale to tide you over.**

**Since this is an elfling Anomen tale, it is set back in the days when Elrohir was still something of a bully. I know some readers don't like that aspect of Elrohir, but remember that he does mature in the later tales! **

**Beta reader was _Dragonfly_, who caught and exterminated all sorts of bugs crawling through the story, especially several varieties of the dread _homonymious_ species, each insect of which sounds likeand even looks somewhat like another insect—such as the _threwious_ which cleverly camouflages itself as the _throughious_. Thank you, Dragonfly, for your, ahem, etymological/entomological skills. **

Anomen was retrieving his arrows from his target: ten shots, ten hits, all of them within a finger's breadth of the center. Glorfindel would be pleased.

"Anomen!"

He turned toward the voice. It was Elrohir, looking uncommonly cheerful.

"Mae govannen, Elrohir. You are early for your lesson. You must be trying to impress Lord Glorfindel!"

"I don't need to impress Glorfindel. He is to take a group of elflings to the border with Dunland for training as scouts, and he has already told Ada that I am to be numbered amongst them. Aye, and Elladan as well!"

"I am to go, too, am I not?"

"No. Glorfindel said that he would take only the older elflings. It is fortunate that Elladan and I are both one hundred and twenty."

"But I am one hundred. That is not so much younger than one hundred and twenty."

"There is," Elrohir announced loftily, "a great difference between one hundred and one hundred and twenty."

"I don't see that," retorted Anomen. "I can shoot as well as you—no! _better_ than you."

Elrohir scowled. This was a sore point. From the day of his arrival in Rivendell, Anomen had impressed everyone with his exceptional ability as an archer.

"If you are such a wonderful archer," Elrohir sneered, "why must Glorfindel take extra time to explain everything to you?"

In truth, Glorfindel spent extra hours on Anomen's training because he perceived that it was time well spent. On some pupils, his efforts would have been wasted, but because of Anomen's talent, the elfling was sure to benefit from the attention. Anomen could not put this idea into words, however, and so stood by helplessly as a triumphant Elrohir swaggered away to pack for the journey. As Elrohir reached the treeline, he looked back and grinned provokingly at Anomen. This was too much to be borne! Fumed Anomen, "There must be some way I can contrive to be included in the riding!"

Anomen pondered. He was not one to go running to Elrond whenever he fetched up against an obstacle, but this time he thought he would be justified in doing so. Elrond was the Lord of Imladris. If Anomen could get Elrond on his side, surely Glorfindel would allow him on the trek! The elfling hastened to Elrond's private chamber, where the elf-lord was relaxing with a glass of wine and a manuscript of merry tales. Anomen was relieved to have found him in a cheerful mood, for sometimes Elrond could be downright dour, and he would not have given much for his chances if that had been the case.

Elrond smiled encouragingly at Anomen. It was not often that the skittish elfling sought him out.

"Well, my son, what brings you to my chamber on this beauteous day? Why are you not out shooting?"

Anomen sighed melodramatically.

"It hardly seems worthwhile to spend time on my archery, as it brings me no recognition."

Elrond raised an eyebrow. Almost daily he received glowing reports from Glorfindel on Anomen's remarkable progress on the archery field.

"Even if it brought you no recognition—which I doubt—does not it bring you pleasure?"

"I suppose so," conceded Anomen, "but it would bring me greater pleasure if I were not always confined to practicing on the training fields."

"And where else would you train but on the training fields?"

"In the forest on the border of Dunland!"

"Rather a long way to walk for daily archery exercises," said Elrond dryly. He knew now where this conversation tended.

"Oh, but I would ride, my Lord," answered Anomen eagerly. "Lord Glorfindel is taking a group of elflings. I could accompany them."

"If I understood Lord Glorfindel aright, he is taking a group of elflings who are older than you—each at least one hundred and twenty years in age, I believe."

"I am nearly that old."

"You are two decades shy of one hundred and twenty."

"But what is a decade to an Elf?" argued Anomen.

"When you are older, a decade will mean little, but at your age, a decade represents one tenth of your entire life. Has Erestor introduced you to the concept of 'percent' yet?"

"No."

"Pity. It would allow me to underscore the point. Well, never mind. Suffice it to say that Glorfindel says you are too young for this cohort."

"Lord Glorfindel says that. What say you?"

"It is not for me to interfere in his decisions regarding the training of elflings and novices."

"But I am your foster-son! Cannot you order Lord Glorfindel to take me?"

"Do you want," Elrond chided him, "the other elflings to believe that you are being favored because you eat at the table of the Lord of Imladris? That is not a way to endear yourself to your fellows! But more than that: Glorfindel is my friend and advisor. I do not order him to do this and that as if he were a skivvy. I am the titular head of Imladris, true, but in reality Glorfindel plays an equal share in its governance, so greatly do I value his wisdom. "

Anomen looked down at the floor, disconsolate. Elrond's heart softened.

"Anomen, Arwen has received an invitation to visit her friend Celaimîr, who has been staying with her grandparents. Would you like to escort her? Mayhap Celaimîr's grandparents also would welcome you as a guest, for Celaimîr's brother Celaithand has been visiting as well, and no doubt by now he longs for the company of a male elfling of his own age."

Anomen was opening his mouth to object that he did not want to escort a baby elleth when an idea suddenly occurred to him.

"I will be glad to escort Arwen," he declared with such eagerness that Elrond looked at him with sudden suspicion.

"Anomen, I will write a letter for you to bear to Celaimîr's grandparents. In it I will explain to them that, if it be agreeable to them, you are to stay with them until Arwen is ready to return. I believe that the plan is for her to remain a fortnight. Do you understand?"

Elrond looked hard at Anomen. The letter for the hands of Celaimîr's grandparents was intended to forestall any mischief on Anomen's part, for Elrond suspected that Anomen might be intending to accompany Arwen to the dwelling of her hosts and then make an excuse to slip off in order to head for Dunland. Anomen's face, however, displayed not the slightest flicker of guilt as he steadily returned Elrond's gaze. Of course, Elrond had already begun to learn that with Anomen such an innocent look did not count for much.

Two days later Glorfindel and a company of older elflings departed for Dunland. Elrond kept Arwen and Anomen in Rivendell a week past that time in order to discourage Anomen if he did indeed have any thoughts of following Glorfindel. Then he sent them on their way, Arwen riding before Anomen on a large but gentle horse.

"Anomen, here is the letter to Celaimîr's grandparents," Elrond said once the two elflings were mounted upon the steed. "See that you keep it safe in your pack."

"Oh, I will," Anomen assured him.

The ride to the dwelling of Celaimîr's grandparents was quite uneventful, for they were in the heart of Imladris, whence no Troll or Orc ever came. They were greeted joyfully by Celaimîr, her grandparents, and her brother Celaithand, who was indeed pleased to see Anomen.

"Anomen," Celaithand exclaimed, "have you come to stay? I hope you have! He can stay, can't he?" he appealed to his grandparents.

"Of course he can," his grandmother replied, smiling, "if he would like to and if the Lord Elrond would not object."

"I'm sorry," said Anomen, "but I will be riding on. I shall return for Arwen when it is time for her to return to Rivendell. A fortnight from now, is that not so?"

"Aye, a fortnight," replied the grandmother. Celaithand looked dreadfully disappointed, and for a moment Anomen had second thoughts about his design of running off. But he pushed his misgivings from his mind and resolutely rode away from the cottage.

He had not, however, given much thought as to _where_ he might run off. Contrary to Elrond's suspicions, he had no intention of trailing after Glorfindel, for the consequences would be dreadful if he were to be discovered. Now he looked about and wondered what to do with himself for a fortnight.

"I shall practice tracking on my own," he decided at last. "There are deer hereabouts, and I shall see how close I can creep up on them. Doubtless that will be as challenging a task as any that Glorfindel may set for his elflings."

For the remainder of the day, he did just that, but he soon tired of the game. He would come across deer tracks and follow them. When he came within sight of the deer, he would sit awhile and watch it. Then he would arise and go hunting for the tracks of another deer. He would sit and watch that one for awhile. He had no one to joke or scuffle with, and suddenly the prospect of remaining alone in this stretch of forest for a fortnight was not as appealing as it had been that morning.

He was beginning to think of giving over his plan and returning to the house of Celaimîr's grandparents when he came across a novel set of prints and felt a sudden surge of excitement. Man-tracks! There was no mistaking those deep boot marks for anything else. No doubt, Anomen thought with glee, a Dunlending was in the forest poaching deer. Now, he gloated, he would have something interesting with which to while away the hours. He would trail the Dunlending, and when he caught up with him, he would play tricks upon him to pay him back for trespassing on elven lands.

Anomen mounted his horse. The tracks were several days old, and he could safely follow them on horseback for a spell before he would have to move forward more quietly on foot. The trail led southward, and Anomen began to worry lest the Dunlending would return to his own land before the elfling had a chance to catch up with him. He urged his horse onward for that day and the following one and the one after. Further and further south he trailed the Man, until he was passing through the land of Eregion. At last Anomen judged that he must be near to the border of Dunland itself. Reluctantly, he began to consider turning back. Still, the tracks were much fresher now. Anomen dismounted from his horse and decided to go on a little bit further. "If I do not shortly come upon him," he promised himself, "I shall turn about and make for Imladris and Arwen."

Anomen followed the prints into a heavily wooded area, tracking the Man as if he were a deer. At long last his efforts were rewarded. Over there, was that the—yes! it was the Man!

No sooner had he spotted his quarry, however, than Anomen's triumph turned to consternation. For it was no Dunlending who bore bow through forest. The Men of that land did not dress after the fashion of this stranger. Nor did the Rangers whom Anomen had seen from time to time in Rivendell. Who then could this foreigner be? The answer came to Anomen in a flash. A Southron! This had been no poacher, Anomen realized, but a Haradrim spy.

What was he to do, Anomen wondered. Nothing, he realized bitterly. Had he immediately reported seeing Man-tracks, scouts would have long ago captured and questioned this spy. Now it was too late. Helpless and unhappy, he could only watch the Southron make his escape.

Suddenly the Southron dropped from view, flattening himself upon the ground. Wondering what the spy was up to, Anomen threw himself down as well. Peering cautiously through some ferns, the elfling saw a figure moving across a break in the trees and realized that the Southron was not the only person in the forest. To his amazement, Anomen saw that the balrog-slayer himself was strolling about, taking his ease after a day of supervising his band of elflings.

Now Anomen struggled with two competing impulses. If he showed himself to Glorfindel, the elf-lord would be able to apprehend the Southron spy and determine what he had been up to. On the other hand, if Glorfindel learned of Anomen's presence, the elfling was going to be in dreadful trouble, for Anomen was sure that Glorfindel would never believe that the elfling had not followed him.

Back and forth Anomen debated the question in his mind until all at once he saw that the Man of Harad had nocked and drawn his bow. There was no time for further thought. Scarcely before he had even realized it, Anomen had drawn and released an arrow from his own weapon. Struck in the back of the neck, the Southron uttered not a word as he fell forward, a slight noise following as his body landed in some bracken. Glorfindel looked about for the source of the sound but saw nothing. It occurred to Anomen that he might be able to slip off without Glorfindel ever knowing that he had been there.

Glorfindel gazed all about. He took a step toward where the Southron lay, his body hidden by the bracken. Anomen knew that if Glorfindel found the Southron, he would search for the archer who felled him. He looked about desperately. His eye fell upon a piece of oak wood that had broken from a fallen limb. He quietly picked it up and threw it as far as he could off to one side. Glorfindel drew his sword and cautiously stalked toward the spot where the wood had landed. As the balrog-slayer moved away, Anomen took one careful step backward after another until he was well away. Then, congratulating himself on his cleverness, he turned and scampered for his horse. When he reached the steed, he vaulted onto his back and urged him to a gallop, grinning all the while at having outwitted Lord Glorfindel the balrog-slayer. Now he would collect Arwen from her friend's house, and the two of them would journey back to the Hall with no one the wiser.

A week after Arwen and Anomen had rejoined Elrond at the Hall, Glorfindel returned in the company of his elflings. Glorfindel was greeted by all, not excepting Anomen, who did not wish to attract attention by behaving at all out of the ordinary. Glorfindel said nothing to him that suggested that he knew of his excursion to the border of Dunland, and Anomen abandoned the lingering fears that he had harbored that the truth would come out.

That evening in the dining hall, as the dishes were being brought, Glorfindel said to Elrond, "My friend, I have something to show you that will be of great interest to you, I think." The balrog-slayer placed a piece of oak wood upon the table. Everyone looked at it curiously save Anomen, who stared at it with a tightening in his gut as if in anticipation of a blow to the stomach.

"Elrond, I must report peculiar doings in the forest on the border of Dunland. Apparently fallen tree limbs have come to life and begun to move about the forest. This piece of oak, for example: I found it underneath a beech tree, but the nearest oak tree was only just barely within tossing distance."

Elrond raised an eyebrow.

"But there are more peculiar doings to report, Elrond."

Glorfindel drew forth a small arrow and placed it upon the table. Upon its shaft were painted the distinctive green leaves that Anomen used to distinguish his arrows from those of his fellow archers.

Elrond raised another eyebrow.

"Exactly where did you find this arrow, Glorfindel?"

"This too I found in the forest bordering Dunland. To be more precise, I found it between the third and fourth neck vertebrae of a Southron who lay face down not a mile from our camp."

Elrond turned to look at Anomen, who suddenly found himself to be intensely interested in the bread that he clutched in his hand.

"Anomen?"

"Yes, Ada."

"You have set several distance marks whilst shooting, but you are not so skillful that an arrow shot in Rivendell would land upon the border of Dunland."

Anomen acknowledged this to be true with a slight nod of his head.

"Yet you did shoot this arrow, did you not?"

Another slight nod of the head.

"I must surmise, then, that you were on our border when this arrow was released from the bow. Is my conclusion correct?"

"Yes, Ada."

"You did not, as you were bidden, accompany Arwen to the home of her friend?"

"I did _accompany_ her, Ada. I just—didn't remain with her."

"Ah. And how is it that her grandparents allowed you to depart? In my letter I asked that you be allowed to dwell with them for the length of Arwen's visit."

"I did not deliver your letter," Anomen confessed. "But," he added, glancing up appealingly, "I did keep it safe in my pack just as you instructed me."

Elrond's face grew dark, and it seemed to Anomen that lightening flashed in his eyes. When the Lord of Imladris opened his mouth, the elfling expected to hear the rumble of thunder. Instead, Elrond spoke quietly enough, but there was no mistaking the displeasure in his voice.

"You were given a commission, and you failed to execute it. You have proven yourself untrustworthy."

If it were possible, Anomen would have hung his head even more than he had previously. As it was not possible, however, he satisfied himself with biting his lip and saying nothing.

Elrond spoke again.

"Before the Lord Glorfindel left, he told me that he had decided that upon his return he would take your cohort scouting. What do you think I ought to tell him about your inclusion in that group?"

Now Anomen forced himself to look into Elrond's eyes. With an even greater effort he kept his voice from trembling.

"That I am not to go with them, for I must first prove myself trustworthy," he said in a soft but firm voice.

"Yes," Elrond said simply.

Anomen nodded. It was a just decision.

Glorfindel spoke then.

"Whilst your cohort is absent, you will of course have tasks to perform. You will be assigned to the Armorer, who is always glad of assistance. Serve him well."

"I will, Lord Glorfindel. Is that all, my Lord?"

"It is enough, I think," said Glorfindel, smiling slightly.

Actually, Anomen was relieved that his punishment was to be no worse, and he was anxious to make his escape before either Elrond or Glorfindel had second thoughts. He turned to Elrond.

"My Lord, may I be excused? Truly, I am not hungry in the least."

"Very well, ion-nîn. You may go to your chamber. You will be all the more rested tomorrow when you arise to take up your duties in the armory."

Anomen crept to his chamber as quietly as he had crept through the forest, and as eager to avoid anyone's notice. Once there he threw himself upon his bed. It was not yet dusk, but he lay there nonetheless, ignoring the view out the window and instead staring gloomily at the ceiling. After awhile he heard a soft knock upon the door.

"Enter," he said sadly.

"Well, well," said a familiar voice. "I have traveled all this distance, braving Orcs and Trolls and a particularly nasty dragon, and after going to all that trouble, I miss your cheerful presence in the Hall of Fire. Pray tell me why I am to be disappointed so."

Anomen sat up hastily.

"Mithrandir! You're back!"

"Rather an unnecessary statement, that," replied the wizard drolly, "but yes, as you have so astutely observed, I am back."

Anomen leaped to his feet and bounced from the bed into Gandalf's arms.

"Oooomph!" gasped the wizard. "That was not a maneuver taught you by Glorfindel!"

"No," giggled Anomen. "That is my own patented war-leap."

"So you are planning to hug your enemies to death?" chuckled Gandalf. But Anomen had buried his head under Gandalf's beard and did not answer. With an exaggerated grunt, the wizard shifted the elfling in his arms and made his way to a bench, settling himself upon it with a groan as exaggerated as the grunt had been.

"Aren't you a little big for this?" he asked gruffly (also exaggerated).

"No," said Anomen petulantly. "Today I am without a doubt nothing but the merest of elflings. If you don't believe me, you may ask the Lords Elrond and Glorfindel, who are gravely displeased with me."

"Displeased, yes. Gravely, no. Do not forget that I have just come from the Hall of Fire. To assuage my disappointment at not finding you there, I stopped to share wine and conversation with those venerable Elves. Perchance you would like to listen to what they had to say."

"Should I?" asked Anomen cautiously.

"I think that you should," replied Gandalf gravely, but with a tell-tale smile in his eyes.

"Very well," replied Anomen hopefully.

"First and foremost," Gandalf began, "Glorfindel was much impressed with your tracking skill. For he backtracked a considerable distance along your trail and that of the Southron. He said that the slight signs left by the Haradrim spy would have defeated many a more experienced scout."

"Did he!" exclaimed Anomen, delighted.

"He did indeed," Gandalf assured him solemnly.

"What else did he say?" said Anomen eagerly.

"He said that your shot was an excellent one, given the distance, the obstructions, and the small size of your bow."

Before Anomen could express his joy, Gandalf held up his hand to silence him.

"Now as to your being on the border in the first place," the wizard continued, "Elrond was quite angry at first, for he assumed that you had been following Glorfindel. However, from his having backtracked along your trail, Glorfindel was able to assure Elrond that this was not the case. What you did was still wrong, but it would have been much worse if you had deliberately gone somewhere expressly forbidden to you."

"So the Lord Elrond will perhaps forgive me?" said Anomen timidly.

"Of course! There was never any question of his not forgiving you."

"Even though I disobeyed him by not staying with Arwen? And I deceived him by allowing him to believe that I would deliver his letter!"

"These are grievous faults indeed, but do not forget that Elrond himself was once an elfling who did not always obey his elders."

"Was he!?"

Gandalf laughed heartily.

"Was there ever such an earnest elfling!? Did you think that Elrond was always great, grand, and grave?"

"Ye-es."

"I assure you, he was not!"

An idea suddenly occurred to Anomen.

"And what of you, Mithrandir? Have you always been great, grand, and grave?"

"Oh, most assuredly," Gandalf replied promptly. "Born with a beard I was—like a Dwarf."

"You were not!"

"Indeed I was!" declared Gandalf. "In my current manifestation, that is," he added.

"In your current man-a-what?" asked a bewildered Anomen.

"Never you mind," smiled Gandalf. "These are complex matters, and you needn't trouble yourself over them until you are older. But aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"I could hardly sleep," retorted Anomen, "with you sitting there going on about your current manifest."

"Manifestation," Gandalf corrected. "But I am sure Elrond's displeasure will be manifest if I keep you up any longer. Good night! And _do_ try to think a little before you go wandering off the next time. Someday you are going to blunder right into the belly of a Troll if you are not careful."

Anomen giggled.

"That is not funny," said Gandalf, putting on a stern face. "I myself have come near landing in a Troll's belly a few times, and I can assure you that it is not a pleasant prospect. Even a dragon does not have breath as foul as a Troll's!"

Anomen giggled again, and Gandalf let his smile show through once more.

"Well, well, sleep now, and tomorrow you can begin working your way back into Elrond's good graces. It will not be as difficult as you may fear!"

And so, with Gandalf's assurances echoing in his ears, Anomen fell asleep with a smile upon his face and hope in his heart.


End file.
